


Jailbreak

by cyanideinsomnia



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Bad Flirting, Bottom Julian Devorak, Cute Ending, Fluff, Human Disaster Julian Devorak, Julian said himbo rights, Lucio (The Arcana) Is A Little Shit, M/M, One Braincell, Plague Lucio (The Arcana), Rated T for Trashmouth, Red Plague (The Arcana), Sneaking Out, This Is STUPID, less than one braincell, soft and sexy, they owe god a braincell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:09:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22252369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyanideinsomnia/pseuds/cyanideinsomnia
Summary: Lucio gets restless and tries to escape confinement. Julian catches him.
Relationships: Julian Devorak/Lucio (The Arcana)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 116





	Jailbreak

**Author's Note:**

> this was the first non-angsty Jucio our dumb doctor would let me have, don't look at me like that

Julian let his feet lead him up the worn stone steps into the Count's wing, eyes focused on medical notes in hand, absently nodding to a flash of gold and white coming down the steps behind him, mentally steeling himself for whatever _ordeal_ his patient was sure to put him through.

Maybe he would be lucky enough to catch him dozing, more docile and easier to physically manipulate for testing with the promise of full sleep when they were done.

The hall leading to the master bedroom would be empty this time in the morning, as another servant would be coming to relieve the beleaguered creature passing him on the steps. He kind of liked it that way, no one around to judge him for the unnecessarily agonizing slow stride towards the proverbial lion's den.

A flicker of red and white in the hall ahead caught his attention, too high up and moving too erratically to be one of Lucio's prized dogs.

He finally glanced up from his notes. 

Count Lucio himself was staring back, plastered tightly against the wall as though he could blend in, wearing a red sleep robe and the distinct guilty look of someone caught doing something they shouldn't.

".. Hi, Jules." His lips twitched into a rather painful looking grin, all teeth and anxiety.

He pressed even closer to the wall as Julian approached, maybe a bit quicker and more aggressive than he should, looking as if to bolt but also knowing very well he was forced to rely on his hiding spot to support his weight. Trapped between a tired doctor and a hard place. For a moment he thought he’d try to leg it anyway, and Julian was _not_ about to give him the satisfaction of chasing him around the hall.

"What the hell are you doing out of bed?" He demanded, tucking his notes in a side pocket. It came out more frustrated than stern, but it seemed to have the proper effect regardless as Lucio flinched away from him.

"I wanna go to the Gardens," He sniffed, slowly pulling away from the wall. "That's not a _crime_ , is it? Are you going to clap me in irons for trying to get some fresh air?"

Julian had been in the midst of grabbing for a sunken shoulder to start gently herding him back to his room, and at that he paused. Stagnant air probably wasn't good for him, and the balcony was also a short trip outside his room, too far from the bed. He was essentially trapped in there.

"Well, no," He awkwardly shifted back on his heels, nervously dragging a hand through auburn curls. "I just don't think you're in any condition to be walking around the Palace."

"And that's not gonna change much if I waste away in my bed, is it?" Lucio shot back. "I'm not dead yet, dammit. I deserve some fucking sunshine."

"Walking around unaided, I mean. But you’re right, sunlight _would_ be good for you.."

The Count had hunkered down and started pulling himself along the wall again, with the clear intent to muscle past his doctor, and this time he was the one that paused, gazing up at Julian with a glimmer of something like hope in his bloodshot eyes. Like a prisoner that's been told he's free to go, but hasn't quite grasped the concept yet.

"I suppose a _little_ time out of doors couldn't hurt," But that look definitely hurt. He could feel his will crumbling under that pitiful gaze. "And maybe I could assist you in getting there.. although you do realize my professional reputation is in tatters if anyone were to catch us."

"That sounds like a _you_ problem." Lucio snorted, mood immediately brightening, almost giddy.

For a moment he seemed to want to say something, but struggled to find the words. They never came, as the smaller man just pushed past him, propping his golden hand against the wall as the flesh one curled around one of Julian's, a gesture he was sure held no intimate connotations for him considering how quickly he grabbed it. Just using him to bear some of his weight and make it easier to move, that was all.

It would probably be even easier to move if he didn't insist on creeping down the hall in the caricature of a sneak, pulling his doctor along behind him like an unwilling chaperone. He was enjoying this, he realized, sneaking around his own Palace like he wasn't supposed to be there. After a while Julian found himself imitating his ridiculous gait, made more ridiculous by his own gangly limbs, finding the childish joy of being 'naughty' infectious.

Where the wall to hug had changed to the opposite side of the hall, Julian lifted and pulled him across without prompting, like steps in an odd sort of dance, complete with a little unnecessary twirl and flourish, hand lingering on his hip for a second too long. They made quite the pair, barely contained giggles and an awkward mess of incredibly sneaky limbs. Once again he was thankful the wing was empty this time of day.

Suddenly Lucio stopped mid sneak, nearly being bowled over for his trouble. Julian opened his mouth to say something, only to be stopped by their joined hands being lifted in a halt gesture. 

Footsteps on stone echoed through the wing. Someone was coming.

" _Fuck_ , shift change," The Count groaned, quickly glancing around them for somewhere to hide, while also backing up against his chaperone as though he intended to use him as a shield, albeit on the wrong side. "This is your fault, I had it timed perfectly."

His hand was trembling harder in Julian's grip, belying the jolt of fear from the prospect of being sent back to bed so close to freedom. 

Down the hall he could barely make out the wisps of white hair coming up from below, a familiar disheveled mane followed by brown skin and vibrant violet and gold clothing. It was Asra coming up the steps, not another Palace servant, something that did not seem to calm his charge in the slightest.

He wasn't sure if Asra would care enough to send Lucio back, but he knew he _would_ judge Julian for throwing in his lot with him.

“Get behind me,” Julian hissed, whirling towards the approaching figure, trying to affect a posture both natural and providing enough room to hide behind, feeling at once like he was smuggling a young Pasha into grown-up spaces.

Trembling fingers latched onto the back of his shirt without a whisper of protest, the warmth of another body pressing tightly against him, as though he could clamber up inside his clothing. He wished he had a cape or long coat to provide more cover for pale legs and red fabric hanging below his hips. 

Maybe Asra wouldn’t notice. 

God, he was definitely going to notice.

“Good morning, Ilya,” The magician smiled as he came to a stop in front of him, relaxed but curious, his familiar lazily wrapped around one arm. “How’s our patient doing?”

“Oh, uh, you know. Symptoms holding steady, no major changes, still dying of Plague, still being a brat about it.” He felt Lucio tense up against his back, fingers digging in a bit harder. He was only a little sorry. “What-- ah, what brings you up here?”

Something flashed in those beautiful purple eyes, encouraging them to flicker away from his face and potentially his smuggled goods. Smuggled bads? “Oh, he just wanted to look at some magic stuff with me, that’s all. Nothing you’d be interested in.”

For a moment he did consider prying deeper, if only because of that note of avoidance, as if he was hiding something potentially dangerous. But he was right - he couldn’t care less what arcane shenanigans they were planning to get up to, or would have gotten up to if Lucio hadn’t decided to make a break for it.

“You’ll have to come back later, I’m afraid,” Julian said, a little too quickly. “He’s tantrumed himself right to sleep.”

“Jules, _Jules--_ ” His back urgently hissed, the same time Asra was musing about timing. “ _Snake--_ ”

He chanced a glance downwards, at his own boot and the bare foot behind it - and between them, a certain small lavender serpent was making herself right at home against Lucio’s skin, beginning to coil around his ankle, eliciting a soft whine as he tried to stay still, something that was difficult enough in normal circumstances.

The whine swiftly turned into a coughing fit, and Julian immediately started coughing over it, reaching behind him to grab the nearest part of Lucio’s emaciated frame to force him to duck as he dramatically doubled over, shifting his grip to scoop Faust off him on the way back up. The fingers digging into his back again indicated the Count was smart enough to come up with him, shaky little wheezes muffled into his shirt indicating his sudden dramatics had startled him out of it.

Asra had taken several steps back in the chaos, concern and confusion written in the lines of his face. “Ilya, are you alright?”

He may have laid it on a bit too thick, judging by how the magician warily crept back and leaned up to stare at his eyes, searching them for the bloody tinge of the Plague. He tried not to enjoy how for the moment, Asra seemed to really care about him.

“It’s fine, I’m not-- just, uh-- air’s pretty dry,” He cleared his throat before stiffly swinging his arm out towards him, Faust comfortably curled around his fist. “You dropped something.”

The snake loosened her grip and slid onto Asra’s shoulders, her tongue flicking at him almost playfully once settled. Her master idly reached up to stroke along her lavender scales, stepping back to a more impersonal distance once he seemed to be sure Julian wasn’t about to drop dead before him. 

“You ARE the doctor here,” Asra slowly relaxed with a sigh. “Anyway, care to join me in the dining hall? There should be a little bit of breakfast left, and the air is much less dry.”

Another quiet, somewhat panicked wheeze as Lucio tensed against him again, probably expecting him to abandon him for greener pastures. And for a moment, he did consider it - it wasn’t his fault the Count was out of bed, and really all that would happen if he betrayed his trust would be that he was put back in bed where he belonged. 

… he would also be betraying his trust. Dangling freedom in front of him and snatching it away like taunting a starving dog.

“No, no, that’s quite alright, I have uh, other business to attend to up here.” He attempted a disarming smile. “Save me a seat at lunch, won’t you?”

“Of course, Ilya. Take care.”

After a moment of further hesitation that felt like an eternity, Asra turned on his heels and made his way towards the stone steps, and Julian didn’t allow himself to breathe until that white fluffy head had completely disappeared from view.

The fingers in his shirt slowly loosened their grip, allowing him more room to turn back around and face his contraband. Lucio’s bloodshot eyes were wide and curious, trying to peek around his arm while keeping hold on his waist, still using him as support for shaking legs, grip automatically tightening as his balance shifted with his gaze.

“Do you think he saw me?” He asked, and then grinned, triumphant. “Of course he didn’t. I was perfectly hidden. I am the _master_ of stealth.”

Julian was pretty sure he had become a grotesque centaur for the duration of that interaction, and if Asra _hadn’t_ noticed an extra pair of blindingly pale legs behind him, he wasn’t looking. 

“The stealthiest.” He agreed with a grin of his own.

Lucio beamed, not questioning if that comment had been facetious (it was) in favor of puffing up proudly like a sweaty, shaking peacock. It was almost cute.

Then he seemed to remember _why_ he had to be the master of stealth, dropping back into a half-crouch and propping himself against the wall with his left hand, the right once again gripping Julian’s hand to tug him forward as he practically jogged down the hall, surprisingly fast for a man on death’s door.

He fought against the instinct to resist - a single tug backwards and he’d collapse on the floor like a tower of cards in a silk robe - allowing himself to be pulled along wherever he wanted him, his own long limbs half-trotting to keep up. They were heading _away_ from the stone steps, and he tried to remember why that would be.

Oh. A dead end.

The Count didn’t even break stride before pulling Julian through the apparent solid wall at the end of the hall, the sudden darkness and sickening lurch in his gut reminding him that it was a magic thing, because of course it was. 

But the most worrying thing was that he realized Lucio’s hand was no longer guiding him forward, forcing him to blindly stagger onwards in his wake, just hoping he was headed in the right direction.

If there was a direction. It felt like the main direction was ‘down’.

Down onto the grass of the Palace Gardens, catching himself on his hands and knees before he would slam into the ground, waiting for his body to stop thrumming with the unwanted warmth and prickling pins and needles of magic. There had been a brief moment of resistance as he'd crossed over, warm and soft and strangely _alive -_ but he swiftly filed it away in his head, figuring it was another magic thing.

“Ah, hello, Jules.” Lucio’s voice drifted towards him, far closer than anticipated.

Julian opened eyes he didn’t realize were closed during the trip, and heat flooded into his face as he realized why Lucio sounded so close - he was pinned to the ground beneath him, trapped between his hands and knees, their bodies nearly touching. There was a reddish flush to his own pale skin that was decidedly unrelated to his affliction, breath quickening, for the moment just lying there and staring up at him with wide, surprised eyes.

Surprised and something else. Expectant? 

He definitely wanted him to take advantage of this, of him in this helpless state. 

His robe seemed so much looser this close, slowly slipping off his body, already nearly naked but somehow so much more exposed. Julian's long fingers flexed against the dirt, torn between pulling the disheveled red silk back up onto his shoulder and savagely pulling it the rest of the way off him, awkwardly frozen somewhere in between. 

The feverish heat of his skin was overwhelming, distracting, begging to be touched and kissed. He knew it would be soft, like the robe, from lack of activity and plenty of pampering in these twilight months. He ached to dig his fingers into it. And yet he stupidly sat there, hovering over him, heart pounding, lightly panting against his skin, too close, not close enough.

After a long moment of enduring this awkward standoff, a wry smile spread across Lucio's lips, both hands coming up to lightly rest against his beet red face, the cool metal of his golden hand at odds with the heat in his skin, sending a shudder rolling through him.

"Not used to taking the lead, are you?" The Count chuckled, obviously undeterred by his hesitance. "Let me show you."

The trembling hands slid down to grip his shoulders, gentle but firm, and then suddenly _he_ was the one on his back in the grass, flipped over and pinned against the ground in one fluid motion, Lucio shifting to straddle his waist with another triumphant grin. The distinct warmth and points of his hips pressing against him indicated that the robe was indeed all that he was wearing.

"Ah, I, uh, don't think I caught that." Julian squeaked out, managing a shaky little grin. "You may have to go over it again."

"Tss, you had your chance," The smaller man hissed without a hint of malice, leaning over him in order to capture his lips in a deep, passionate, hungry kiss before he could think to stop him.

He could taste blood, just as hungrily leaning up into it while distantly wondering if this would infect him with the Red Plague. Maybe that was secretly his intention, an extra incentive to find the cure buried in desperate affection - although considering how _others_ were contracting it, a kiss was preferable. His hands began to lift from the ground, aiming to rest on exposed thighs but stopping short, still unsure if he wanted to keep him this close.

Fingers dug into his shirt again, from the front this time, insistently tugging at the fabric like a predator tearing into prey - and then they hesitated, lingering for a long moment before dropping away, burning lips and the weight on top of him shortly following them with a curse and a soft thump in the grass next to him.

Julian slowly allowed himself to relax, head lolling slightly to glance toward his companion. Despite the herculean effort it must have taken to stop himself from ravishing him, Lucio's expression was relatively peaceful, rare in these past few months outside of when he slept. Sunlight reflecting off the foliage dappled him a warm gold, giving his sallow skin the illusion of life.

"I feel better already," He sighed, leaning his head against his doctor's shoulder and closing his eyes.

"You really shouldn't be out of bed, you know. In my professional opinion."

One silver eye peeked open, peaceful expression interrupted by a small pout. "You want to get rid of me so soon? We _just_ got here. My toes are still cold."

"Alright, I suppose I can allow ten more minutes of sunshine before I have to take you back." Julian sighed.

"Orrrr I could have an _hour_ of sunshine."

"Fifteen minutes and that's my final offer."

A moment of careful deliberation, golden arm lazily draping across his chest, barely an impediment to getting up if he was so inclined, which he certainly was not, warm and comfortable in the grass.

"Two hours,” Lucio said finally. “Take it or leave it."

"That's not how negotiation works and you know it."

"I'm the Count, it can work like that if I want."

**Author's Note:**

> for the record: before they start sneaking, he was thinking of asking him to straight up carry him bridal style outside, but his pride wouldn't let him


End file.
